Threads From the Loom
by Darth Breezy
Summary: Star Wars Rebels Kanan Jarus/Hera Syndulla One shot follow up to the longer, complete story On the Loom of Chariclo. Kanan 'debriefs' with Hera. Foreplay, intimacy nothing too detailed.


Threads From the Loom

* * *

He felt her presence well before she announced herself, her unease, mixed with concern, and above all, _love for him,_ radiating through the Force,

"Kanan?" she called quietly from the entrance of the _Ghost_. Receiving no answer, she called out again, more urgently this time. _"Kanan?"_

"I can _hear_ you, Hera," he said at last. "No need to shout. Did you think I'd left?"

"Not funny, love" came the huffed reply, as she sat down on the bunk next to him, sighing. She leaned into his one armed embrace, and his fingers brushed the top of her arm lightly. "I just got the three minute briefing from Ezra - "

" _Five_ ," he corrected her absently. "I counted."

"Five then," she acknowledged, placing her hand on his inner thigh, duplicating his gesture.

She wanted to _talk._ He _didn't._ She would _anyway._

A beat of quiet as his beard tickled her earcone and throat. _Talk later,_ the gesture said, his breath warm on her cheek, and she shivered. _Better idea._

" _Kanan..."_ the word was hushed, concerned. "Ezra's worried about you..."

"Erza's always worried," he murmured, planting soft kisses on her neck, and with his free hand, he began playing with the fastenings on the top of her flight suit. "Second nature to him..." One down, too many to go.

She squeezed his thigh, and caught his fingers with her own.

"Don't need help," he grumbled into her collar-bone. "Just because I can't _see_ it - "

"Who, or what is _Kam?"_

 _There. The fussy buckles undone. Only the zipper now…_ but Hera stayed his hand.

 _Kanan…_ There was no arguing with that tone. He sighed and leaned back against the wall.

"Can't it wait?"

No answer, at least verbally. Her grip on his fingers loosened, but only a little. The message was clear. _Tell me what I want to know, and you can continue, otherwise…_

She began to trace small circles on the inside of his thigh, even through the fabric of his trousers, the sensation was… _enticing._

 _She stopped._

" _Not fair,"_ he grumbled. He knew she was smiling though, but he wasn't quite ready to lose this battle."Why?"

"Ezra said you called out her name in your sleep – I'm assuming it was a _her._ He had no idea who it was. Even looked a bit… _'off'_ when he mention it." Now her concern was palatable, even tinged with a little fear. "Kanan, I've seen that… _that look_ before… just not on one of _us_."

He sighed and pulled her close, the zipper momentarily forgotten. How to explain it to her, when he barely understood it all himself.

"You think he, and I, have had our memories tampered with," he said at last. Hera nodded, leaning into him again. "Yes," she breathed. "Ezra, undoubtedly so. You..."

"Not so much," he finished for her, then frowned. "At least I _think_ not."

"But _why?_ Hera asked. _And who is Kam, anyway?_ The hand that had been caressing his thigh snaked itself under his shirt, coming to rest on his belly, stroking the fine hair below his navel with her thumb.

"She was a Jedi, once..." Kanan said at last. "From… before."

Nails, small and sharp dug into his belly, and he hissed.

"Sorry..."

"You could kiss it and make it better!"

"Maybe later. Are you going to answer me?" The light touch returned.

"She's not one of _them,_ if that's what you're thinking. I guess she deemed a lot of it 'need to know.'" Absently, he brushed the top of her head with his chin.

 _They like that feeling between their…_ the Imperial officer's voice echoed mockingly in his head. He pushed the thought aside roughly, and did it again as Hera sighed contentedly."She — they bought us a little breathing space after all… "

"...and intel, and credits, I know. But Kanan..."

 _Ahh, there it was, the real question._

"Can you fly a Star Destroyer?" he asked suddenly.

 _What?_

"You heard me."

She pulled away abruptly and released his hand, searching his face for sarcasm or any other indication that he was toying with her. Finding none, she replied simply, "No."

"Why not?" he asked, his tone serious. "You're a good pilot, the best on the base!"

"I still don't -"

" - probably the best in the fleet," he continued, unerring. "Probably even in the Empire!"

"Kanan Jarrus!" she scolded. "You know that would take years of training and practice and… and..." She trailed off, understanding. "Oh..." she said meekly. "I understand..."

"Yeah," he said, now lying back. She didn't resist when he pulled he down with her, nor did she protest when he reached for the zipper with the unspoken command of _'off'_. _Now._

 _She tugged at his shirt – you first. He sat up and obliged her before laying back down. Happy?_

 _Yes._

 _She reveled in his warm touch, drinking in his form with her eyes._

"Looking for fresh marks, my dear?" he asked, a low rumble in his throat. "I'm afraid you won't find any. A good lupanar won't leave any evidence."

"I guess I'd better practice then..." she said huskily. "But I can't promise anything this time..."

 _Good as anything_ he wanted to say, but she'd already taken his breath away.

 _And as good as her word,_ she _practiced. Then they practiced together until the sounds of revelry sounded across the station. A new day had begun at Chopper Base._


End file.
